


Battles of Wills

by JaneTurenne



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneTurenne/pseuds/JaneTurenne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three linked drabbles about Holmes, Watson and a cat.  Utter plotless fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battles of Wills

Sherman will never precisely _like_ Watson--not as he does Holmes, who, as he informs Watson on the occasion of their second meeting, he "knowed from a nipper"--but animals appreciate the doctor’s kindness, and that goes a long way with the gruff naturalist. So when in late summer of '94 Watson and Sherman's newest stray, a Russian Blue barely more than a kitten, happen to take a shine to each other, the older man sees fit to entrust the cat to the younger, particularly seeing as how Mr. Holmes will be about to keep his doctor friend in line.

*

It's only once he's arrived home, Toby's leash in one hand and the other supporting the cat sprawled across his good shoulder, that Watson realizes the difficulty. He'd forgotten that two felines rarely share space well, but the marginal narrowing of Holmes' eyes quickly reminds him.

“Yours?”

Watson nods.

Holmes looks about to protest, but says only, "Have you named him yet?"

"Rakha." Then, to Holmes' raised eyebrow, "Hindustani for 'ash.'"

"Hmmm." Holmes pretends to return to his microscope.

Watson hears the unspoken _I suppose I owe you one_ , and is glad that neither of them had to say it.

*

Rakha leaps gracefully from Watson’s shoulder, his tail straight in the air. Watson watches nervously as the animal stalks to Holmes’ chair and circles once, twice, then stares up at the detective with challenging eyes.

Holmes glances down, tight-lipped. Something unbends in his eyes, slightly. He lowers a hand.

For one more moment the cat looks, then butts his head against Holmes fingers. It surprises Watson not at all that Holmes knows exactly where to scritch.

Holmes stands, half-smiling. “Come, Rakha,” he commands, heading for the door.

The cat follows unhesitatingly. Watson, grinning all over his face, does the same.


End file.
